


Bring Me A Dream

by fortheficjihoon_99



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Pining, Platonic Relationships, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheficjihoon_99/pseuds/fortheficjihoon_99
Summary: Ten is a troubled artist. Doyoung fell in love with him.





	Bring Me A Dream

_Bung_

_Bung_

_Bung_

_Bung_

Ten hummed along to the jaunty tune as his brush flicked across the canvas haphazardly. Strong and dramatic, like a conductor performing Beethoven’s 5th symphony, his strokes slashed through the conservative playfulness of the 50’s pop booming through his speakers. The song echoed in the small room located in the corner of his apartment. The walls and floor were littered with old paintings and specs of dust floated between them, illuminated only by the stream of light from a single window. This room had become his lifeline the past two years. His personal safe haven.

He paused.

His head fell to the side as he inspected his latest masterpiece and hummed contemplatively. A gloop of black paint, hanging from the tip of the brush he’d poised mid-air, gave up and landed on his cheek, startling him.

That was it. That was what his painting needed.

Gathering the remainder of his black paint and blending it with a little water, Ten poured it down the centre of the detailed painting he had spent two weeks on. Like a tar tsunami, it completely buried anything he had done that fell in its path. Anyone watching probably would have screamed in horror. All that hard work and time spent, wasted. However, Ten’s face was lit up with glee as he lowered the cup and looked at the final product.

 _Perfect_ , he thought.

His celebratory dance was interrupted by two loud knocks at the door. Ten spun around to face the intruder.

“I heard squealing.” Johnny’s beaming face peered from the gap between the door and the frame. Johnny was Ten’s best friend whom he shared the apartment with. Ten had met the giant whilst he was stuck in America and would honestly not be here if it wasn’t for him. Johnny had met him at his lowest point and it was Johnny’s bright personality that had pulled him out. Not to mention his wealth and kindness that allowed him to spend all day painting, and Ten didn’t know where he’d be without the creative outlet. How many people do you know that would let their best friend live rent free in a luxury apartment just because they loved having them around? (And it was easier to keep an eye on him, but Johnny kept that part to himself.)

“Have you finally finished?” Johnny asked. Ten had done nothing but eat, sleep and breathe this painting, which was nothing new. Ten was stubborn, and when he focused on something he focused everything, even going so far as to forget basic necessities like sleeping. It was a trait he’d had since he was a child and neither of them saw it going away anytime soon.

Ten chuckled. “You just want me to come and play that stupid game with you.”

“And, so what if I do,” Johnny replied, crossing his arms defiantly. The pair shared a playful glare before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll play your stupid game.” Ten conceded.

“Good.” Johnny finalized, stepping pass Ten to view his newest piece.

Like usual, Johnny didn’t know how to take it. It was always hard to wrap his mind around the nightmarish things that Ten drew. This particular one was less grim than usual but Johnny reckoned it was due to the black paint running down the middle that took up most of the canvas. Through its exposed parts, Johnny could see the remnants of some kind of red coloured hell beast and the scattered bones and body parts of its victims. Grisly.

“You like?” He turned to find Ten grinning at him impishly, his white teeth blindingly bright.

His artwork was hard to process, but even harder was accepting that they came from Ten. Ten, with a smile that could outshine the stars with its brilliance and a personality to match. It would be difficult for anyone to fathom, but Johnny reckoned his understood where it came from. Even if it didn’t make him happy.

“Yes.” He answered truthfully.

Johnny may not understand it completely, but it made Ten happy. For that, he loved it.

 

 

 

Ten groaned, repeatedly banging his head against the kitchen wall.

It was lunch time. Johnny was sat opposite him drinking a cup of coffee whilst reading the newspaper. Dressed in comfortable sweats, showing his lack of plans for the day, he just wanted to catch up on what was going on in the world but Ten was making it very hard.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to give yourself an aneurysm.” Johnny warned, his eyes never leaving the paper.

“It’s been a week, Johnny. A week!” Ten complained, loudly. Although he listened and stopped banging his head on the wall, choosing to instead bury his head in his hands. “A week and I can’t think of anything.”

“It’s just a creative block.” Johnny assured. “You’ll get pass it and get back to painting Satan’s worst nightmares soon, okay.” Johnny was right. Ten knew he was right, but his simple words and soft smile offered little to no comfort.

Ten wished it was that easy. What Johnny didn’t understand was that Ten relied on his dreams for inspiration, but for whatever reason his dreams that week had been strange… no, out if the ordinary for Ten. They would start off as their usual dark, messed up shit that he lapped up like a thirsty dog but then everything would start distorting. The blacks would turn to white. The red to rainbow. Angry villagers with pitchforks became carefree children. Pained screams became laughter. It was like _My Little Pony_ had thrown up on his brain and he hated it. Such happy imagery was of no use to him.

He sighed. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” Ten announced, ignoring the fact that it was only one in the afternoon and he had woken up not even twenty minutes ago.

 

 

He woke up itchy eyed and frustrated. The nap had served no purpose. Given no inspiration except that maybe he was on to something when he was assaulting his brain with the wall. At least then his vision had been decorated with reds and black, and he was too preoccupied with the pain to acknowledge the true problem.

Sighing, Ten flopped back down on his bed, his face swallowed up by his multitude of pillows. How he wished he could drown right then. Closing his eyes, Ten imagined he was floating lifeless in a vast body of water. His clothes sodden and his hair fanning around him as it’s pulled by the waves. The waves which lapped at his arms and rocked his body side to side. Every minute or so, a big wave would come which fully submerged his face. Salty sea water flooded his every orifice, stinging his insides. Painful bliss.

Ten was jolted awake.

Rubbing his itchy eyes with the back of his hand, Ten was surprised to find Johnny looming over him when his vision had cleared. Had he fallen asleep? Now fully awake, Ten realised that must have been the case. Shame, it had almost felt real.

He wished it was real.

“Hey,” Johnny spoke softly, not wanting to startle the smaller if he wasn’t completely orientated. “Dinner’s ready.” He informed.

It was dinner time already. Had he really fallen asleep for that long?

“Do you want me to get your chair? It must have rolled away whilst you were sleeping.” Johnny asked. Ten sat up to peer around Johnny’s tall form, and sure enough, his wheelchair had rolled out of arms reach. He must have forgotten to put the brakes on.

He yawned, stretching his arms out wide. With his messy black hair, he looked like a little kitty cat. “Would you kindly?” He asked, as he rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, they were really dry.

Holding back a coo at how cute Ten looked, Johnny retrieved Ten’s chair and left it beside his bed. He knew that Ten preferred to do what he could himself. Johnny insisting otherwise had led to an argument that lasted for two weeks whilst they were in America. Suffice to say, Johnny had learnt his lesson.

“Any luck?” Johnny asked as they made their way to the kitchen. “You know, with the inspiration thing.” He clarified when Ten looked up at him with creased eyebrows.

The younger of the pair sighed. Whilst dreaming of being carried away by the oceans waves soothed him, that was just the problem. It soothed him. And soothing was not what he wanted right now. Not what he needed.

“Nope.” He answered, taking his spot at the table to resume banging his head against the wall.

 

 

 

Ten was really at his wits end. He’d exhausted all ideas he could come up with to solve his lack of inspiration. He’d tried everything short of going to a therapist. Never again would he go to a therapist. The four months he’d spent at his mandatory appointments had pushed him closer to the edge then he’d ever been.

Well, until now.

In the hopes of getting over his blank mind, Ten had drawn out every and any idea he’d ever had that he just hadn’t had the time to get to or the will to complete. He’d hoped that whilst his heart may not have been 100% in it, creating something may have gotten the rusty cogs of his mental art factory to turn once again. He was wrong.

Currently, he was laying on the floor of his art studio. The sharpened edges of dried spillage digging into his arms and head. His eyes became glassy as he stared unblinking at the ceiling. How had he managed to get paint up there, he mused. Without his art Ten felt lost at sea. Like a ship without an anchor drifting through rough waters, he felt battered. His art was his anchor. It kept him sane. He didn’t know how much longer he could last without it.

A crack of light entering the darkened room caused him to flinch. Groaning, he turned away from the door, knowing it was Johnny coming to disturb his moping.

“Ten! What the fuck, did you fall?” Johnny’s heavy footsteps shook the floor as he rushed over to where Ten lay spread eagle on the floor.

Ten rolled his eyes. “No, Johnny. I like it down here. It’s closer to hell.”

It was Johnny’s turn to roll his eyes. Squatting down so he was more on a level with the smaller man, he chided, “This isn’t healthy, Ten. You can’t just lock yourself in here all day. You’re going to turn to dust if you’re not careful.” Johnny sighed, wiping a finger along a painting abandoned on the floor and being unsurprised to find his finger grey with dust.

“What do you care,” Ten huffed. “You don’t bug me nearly this much when I shut myself in here on a regular basis.” Ten knew he was being unfair. Johnny was just being his usual concerned self. He only gave him space because Ten wanted it.

“You know I always care.” Johnny whispered. Hurt.

“Do you?” Ten continued. “You think I don’t know that you want me gone.” It was untrue. Ten knew that. Felt how his words caused Johnny to physically recoil, but he couldn’t stop when he got like this. “How much easier your life would be without me mooching off of you. You could go back to medical school. Stop relying on daddy’s money. Should I go? Make it easier for the both of us. Yes, I think that’s best.”

“Ten,” Johnny murmured, the corners of his lips pulled down in a frown. His brown eyes were sad yet understanding. Always understanding. It was annoying.

The elder pressed his dust covered finger to the junction between his eyebrows, the Thai boy closing his eyes at the touch. “Turn it off.” He tapped the finger once, twice, before raising back up.

Ten pouted at the loss of Johnny’s heat.

Johnny left, but not before placing a white paper bag next to Ten’s head. Eyedrops. Ten had been complaining about his for a while.

He whined. He didn’t deserve a friend like Johnny.

 

 

 

It was about a week after Ten’s episode and he was feeling a little better. However, that was mostly due to Mark. His little lion cub. Ten had met Mark through Johnny whilst still in America. Mark was the son of one of Johnny’s father’s colleagues whom Johnny had taken under his wing. When Ten had met him for the first time, he was enamoured with the younger boy’s energy. The blonde happily listened to all the stories Ten had of his time travelling. Asking questions. Being genuinely interested. It had warmed him, and made his time in the hospital more bearable.  Once Mark was old enough, he’d moved over to Seoul to pursue his love of music. Ten had a couple of connections he was more than happy to put Mark in touch with.

Word had somehow gotten to him (via Johnny, Ten assumed) of his current state and so Mark had taken it upon himself to try and cheer the elder up. Bless him. It would usually work, but Ten was too far gone this time.

When Mark had popped round, Ten’s favourite cake and a bottle of soju in hand, the elder was already drunk off his face. Mark threw the green bottle straight in the bin before Ten could get his hands on it.

Ten was on the floor, his legs bent under him and his head on the coffee table. He was drooling as he babbled to himself, although Mark was unsure if he was aware of it. Mark grimaced. It hurt to see his friend like this and it wasn’t something he was usually exposed to. Johnny tended to warn him away when Ten was in this state.

Speaking of Johnny, Mark looked at the eldest who was sat on the couch, lazily browsing through his phone. To someone on the outside they would think he was unbothered but Mark knew he was using it to distract himself.  Johnny, sensing the attention being paid to him, looked up.

“I tried.” He shrugged, seeing the unanswered question of ‘how the hell did it get this bad’ in Mark’s eyes.

The low rumble of Johnny’s voice seemed to wake something up in Ten as he finally realised Mark’s presence.

“Mark!” he screeched, reaching his arms up and making grabby hands at his young friend. The sound made the blonde flinch. In any other circumstances the sight would have warmed his heart. Prompted a joke about who’s really the youngest of the trio. But it was hard to miss the stench of vodka on his breath, the empty bottles around him or the way his chin and cheek glistened with spit. Nonetheless, Mark obeyed the elder man’s wishes, ending up with Ten in his lap, clinging to his neck as his babbling caused more spit to leak from his mouth and soak Mark’s t-shirt.

“Mark, I’m so glad you came.” He mumbled. “Johnny’s been mean to me.” He pouted.

Johnny remained unfazed, continuing to scroll as he replied, “Telling you to stop drinking is not being mean, Ten.”

Ten stuck his tongue out. “Whatever,” he scoffed, before focusing back on Mark. His slim fingers gripped the younger’s cheeks to shake his head back and forth. “You’re so cute, Mark. Why are you so cute?” He cooed, squishing Mark’s cheeks in a way the younger couldn’t help but giggle at. The giggle disease caught on and soon enough, the both of them were rolling around in a fit of laughter, disturbing Johnny’s attempts at ignoring them.

Johnny stood up. The action caught Mark’s attention and the red-faced boy finally stopped laughing.

“I’m going to go sleep for a little bit.” He announced. Ten’s slump had lasted for three months now and the exhaustion of having to constantly keep an eye on him was starting to take its toll on Johnny who decided to take advantage of Mark’s impromptu visit. Johnny felt a little bad for handing Ten off to Mark and felt even worse for even thinking of Ten like that. Like a parcel at a birthday party. He thought it was insensitive and mentally berated himself for even thinking it, but Johnny figured he was no use to Ten a walking zombie.

It wasn’t until ten minutes after Johnny had retired to bed that Ten finally spoke.

“He left because of me, didn’t he?”

 _He left because he can’t stand seeing me like this_ , Ten finished internally.

It was quiet and caught Mark off guard. He looked down at the elder who had his head in his lap as Mark stroked his damp dark hair, the elder staring listlessly at the coffee table as he’d sobered up.

Panicked, Mark didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t well versed in helping Ten when he was like this. It was Johnny’s territory, and he didn’t want to say anything wrong.

“Erm… I think he’s just tired. It _is_ like two in the morning.” Is the reply he settled on.

Ten smiled. “I guess you’re right.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence for another twenty minutes, Ten savouring the feel of Mark’s fingers on his scalp.

“Do you ever think I’ll be able to draw again?” Ten asked. Mark went to answer but realised the elder was more so talking to himself and decided to let him continue. “I really don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t get right again. You know how much I need it, Mark.”

“I know,” the younger soothed, brushing a clump of hair from Ten’s reddened eyes.

He sighed, continuing, “I feel bad. Johnny’s had to put up with my shit for so long. I should leave.”

“He wouldn’t want that.”

“He wouldn’t, would he.” Ten hummed. His eyes were getting heavier as the residual alcohol started to take its affect. “He’d be upset.”

“He would.”

Ten pouted, his eyes almost fully closed. “I don’t want that.”

 

  


_“You don’t, but it’s going to happen anyways.”_

_Huh?_

_Ten blinked, sitting up so fast he had to pause to push down the wave of dizziness that overcame him. Damn, he really shouldn’t have downed those bottles of vodka._

_With a groan, Ten took in his surroundings. Just turning his head a little revealed Mark’s sleeping face. The blonde’s mouth hung open allowing a steady stream of drool to fall over his bottom lip._

_Cute. Ten giggled, shutting his jaw gently and placing a cushion beneath his head so he could sleep comfortably._

_“It’s the only thing you’re good for, upsetting Johnny.”_

_Ten stilled. He had forgotten about the voice that had woke him up. With more energy than he knew he had, his head whipped around to try and find the source._

_“You’re so stupid.” The voice mocked. “You don’t even recognise your own voice.”_

_He stopped, catching his reflection in the coffee table. It was irregular. Lacked the shape and contours of his own face, merely a shadow. But Ten could sense the jeering smile where it’s face should be._

_“What are you?” Ten asked, reaching out to touch the cold glass and jumping back in shock when it rippled instead, like a stone thrown into a pond._

_“I’m the truth.” It answered simply. “I’m your truth.”_

_Ten’s head shook slightly, he couldn’t wrap his mind around this._

_“Whether you want to or not, you’re going to upset Johnny. It’s all you ever do. All you’re good for; scrounging off his money and holding him back like the dead weight you are. He would be so much better off without you.”_

_No._

_“Why deny it? You know its true. He’s probably finding a way to get rid of you as we speak.”_

_“No.” Ten whispered as he looked towards Johnny’s door. A chain protruded from the darkness of the open door which Ten found connected to his ankle. ‘Dead weight’ was etched into the rusty silver. The unmistakable sound of metal against metal filled the room and Ten wondered how he hadn’t heard it before._

_Sparks flashed in Johnny’s room, and in the split seconds of brightness he could see Johnny taking a hacksaw to the other end of the chain._

_A wretched sound left him as he chest concaved as if recoiling from a physical punch to the heart._

_No._

_Johnny please._

_“Johnny.”_

_“JOHNNY”_

 

“What is it? I’m here.” His voice cut through the black. “Stop thrashing, Ten.”

“Johnny?” Ten whimpered, stilling when Johnny’s arms wrapped around him.

“I’m here, Ten,” he spoke into Ten’s black hair as he hugged the smaller man close. He must have had a nightmare.

“Then why can’t I see you?”


End file.
